


at the beginning of the world

by carnival_papers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Bottom Kylo Ren, Crying, Crying Kylo Ren, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Soft Kylux, Top Hux, Virgin Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnival_papers/pseuds/carnival_papers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insecure about his body and his virginity, Kylo breaks down during his first time with Hux. Reminded of his own first time, Hux takes care of Kylo and helps him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the beginning of the world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rexluscus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexluscus/gifts).



> happy birthday, [rex](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/rexluscus)! thank you so much for your encouragement and being the best beta a girl could ask for. i'm so happy i met you via this fandom!
> 
> so many thanks to [mak](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/FatHobbitLover) and [olivia](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/icicaille) for betaing! the title of this fic is lifted from a sharon olds poem.

Before Hux even touches him, Kylo realizes he is trembling. He is splayed on Hux’s bed, his body bare and pale in the stark light, and Hux stands before him, still dressed, watching with his sharp eyes. If he were braver, he might dip into Hux’s mind, view his thoughts for a moment, torment him, but—he has neither the strength nor the focus to do so now. He is dimly aware of Hux’s desire, but mostly his own mind is clouded by the warring forces of fear and want.

He has never done this before—given himself over to another’s hands and mouth and body. The opportunity has never arisen before now. He was an ugly boy who has become an ugly man, with an odd face and strange speckles and a righteous anger.

And yet Hux wants him. Claims to want him, anyway, claims to have wanted him for what feels like an eternity now. Still, as he’d undressed, Kylo had expected Hux to laugh at him at any moment, to delve into his arsenal of terrible names and launch them one by one at Kylo, as he had when they’d first met. _Insolent boy_ , Hux had called him once, and _beastly thing_ and _monster_ and _fool_.

But Hux had only watched him in silence. Kylo’s hands shook, removing layer after layer, waiting for some response from Hux, anything. He’d dropped his belt to the floor, pulled his tunic over his head (distant thoughts of his hair suddenly ruffled, how stupid and childish he must look), then his undershirt. Hux had curled his hands into fists upon seeing Kylo’s naked chest, drawn in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m—” Kylo had started, but Hux had shushed him and nodded at Kylo, and so Kylo had slipped his thumbs beneath the waistband of his leggings and tugged them down his long legs, stepped out of them, stood tall and straight and scared before Hux, wearing nothing. He’d been embarrassed, a bit, at this new nudity, and at his cock already being hard, and how Hux’s eyes had lingered there just for a moment, widening.

“Lie down,” Hux had said, and now they’re here, and Kylo is shaking. There is a part of him that believes this is an elaborate joke at his expense, and that at any moment, the doors will open and everyone he’s ever known will be standing there laughing at him, at the idea that he could ever be wanted.

Hux is undoing the fastener at the neck of his uniform with careful fingers, never once taking his eyes off of Kylo’s body. His gaze lingers and drifts, first at Kylo’s cock, then sweeping up his chest, his throat, to Kylo’s eyes. Kylo has to look away, then.

“You want me to fuck you,” Hux says. “Isn’t that right?” He unhooks his belt, unzips the long zipper on the front of the uniform. The tunic falls open; Hux is wearing a First Order regulation-issue black undershirt underneath. His collarbones cleave out, catch the straps of the shirt, and Kylo thinks of drawing his tongue across those bones, biting into them, breaking the skin.

He has no sense of how this works—of course the physical mechanics of this sort of thing aren’t hard to figure out; he had been a boy once, and he had seen things when he and Luke traversed the galaxy that have stuck in his mind. But what to do _personally_ , how to touch Hux or be touched by him, that knowledge escapes Kylo.

“I need an answer, Ren,” Hux says, his voice lower now as he shrugs the tunic off his shoulders. “Shall I fuck you or not?”

Kylo forces down the lump in his throat. There is a burn in the back of his mouth like battery acid, the metallic taste of anxiety. Hux’s arms are crossed over his chest and he’s waiting for an answer, expectant, brows furrowed. _Answer, answer_ , Kylo’s heart thuds, _don’t let this slip away_.

He nods. Doesn’t trust his tongue to form the right words.

That’s enough for Hux. Without hesitation, he shoves off the trousers of his uniform. He’s wearing dark briefs, and Kylo suddenly feels a fresh embarrassment over having not worn underwear (Hux must think he’s disgusting, unsanitary). That embarrassment is soon swallowed, however, by the sight of Hux’s body. He’s thin, so much thinner than Kylo expected, a strange canvas of angled bones and soft fleshy curves. Something in Kylo sighs at this—getting to see this real Hux, who is not so stout and square as his uniform suggests, whose body is made of pliant places dappled with freckles.

Kylo has wanted a lot of things over his life—power, somewhere warm to sleep, a starship to be his home in the cold expanse of space. But he thinks he has never wanted anything so much as he wants Hux, if only for the sheer fact that Hux seems to want him, which is, in truth, what Kylo wants more than anything. To be wanted, to be the object of someone’s want.

He tries to push that thought away, because it scares him. All of this scares him if he thinks about it too much. Hux looks ready to devour Kylo as he lowers himself to the bed, onto his knees between Kylo’s spread legs. He stretches his hands in the space between them, holds them over Kylo’s torso for a moment, then pauses.

“You’re shaking,” Hux says, placing his hands in his lap. His upper lip curls.

“Sorry,” Kylo mutters. He repositions himself, pushes himself up on his elbows to better see Hux. His muscles are tense and straining, his arms and stomach and thighs, and he cannot stop himself from quivering with anticipation. Hux is so close, his small birdlike body folded up between Kylo’s legs, and yet even this is not close enough.

Hux almost smiles. “Has it been a long time for you, too?”

Kylo passes his tongue over his bottom lip. “Um,” he says, “I mean.”

“I shouldn’t assume, I suppose—your knights and Snoke could be screwing you on a daily basis, for all I know.”

“They’re not,” Kylo says. If he were just to scoot his legs a little closer together, they’d perfectly bracket Hux’s. But he may as well be paralyzed. Try as he might, he cannot make himself move. He breathes in, begs Hux, “Please.”

“Please _what_?”

A pause. He lets the words settle in his mouth, understanding the gravity of speaking them. “Please fuck me,” Kylo says finally, and Hux straightens his back, sits up.

“Undress me,” Hux says. Stretches his arms out wide, waits for Kylo to move. There is lean muscle in his thin arms, muscle Kylo wants to sink his teeth into. The only way he can conceptualize his desire is hunger, violence; he does not know how to do tenderness, but he knows that he wants to consume Hux, and he wants Hux to consume him.

How they got here: a parallel realization that the tension and anger between them was a kind of heat. That Hux’s hate was perhaps not hate, but intrigue, and that their screaming matches leading to their faces so, so close, close enough to kiss (but they have not kissed, never, never) were perhaps an excuse for intimacy, in their strange way. Hux had, once, walked in on Kylo in the training area, Kylo wearing nothing but his leggings and a thin sheen of sweat, and Kylo had seen how Hux looked at him then, so hungry. Afterward, Hux had caught Kylo on his way to the showers, gestured him into a secluded walkway. Said, _I want to fuck you_ , just said it, no pretense, and it had taken two standard weeks of Kylo jerking off twice a day, Hux’s face in his head, before he’d managed to say, _okay, yes, let’s do that, what you said_.

Kylo leans forward now, reaches for the hem of Hux’s shirt. He cannot keep his hands still, and he is acutely aware of how his body distorts itself in this movement—his stomach creasing as he reaches, his cock pressing against his stomach, his face turning into a grimace. And this awareness stifles his movement even further, makes the tremor in his hands uncontainable, until Hux suddenly seizes his wrist, and Kylo gasps at the touch, like a sting.

“Have I done something wrong?” Hux says, grip tightening. “Do you not want to do this? I won’t force you.”

He shakes his head. No, no, no, that’s not it at all, he wants this so much more than he can say, and yet—and yet. And yet when Hux’s thumb slides across the heel of Kylo’s hand, his nail pressing into the center of Kylo’s palm, Kylo almost yelps and sighs at once.

If he has ever been touched with this intent, he does not remember it. He has lived twenty-nine long years without someone touching him this way. There was Ben’s mother and father, who loved him, sure, and who made him too soft, who held him with kindness and who kissed the top of his head, sometimes, and Ben’s uncle, who would hug him and sometimes carry Ben on his shoulders (before school, before Snoke, before he wasn’t Ben anymore). But this is not the same as that, this is touch Kylo has never felt, and even though it burns, he wants it over and over.

He flexes his fingers. Hux’s hand slips down Kylo’s forearm, each inch agonizing in its pleasure. “We can go slower, if that’s what you’d prefer,” Hux says. He gives a choked laugh. “I admit I’m a bit rusty when it comes to foreplay.”

Hux’s fingertips skim over Kylo’s elbow, trace the curve of his bicep. It’s a kind of prickling feeling that washes over Kylo’s whole body, feeds through him like the Force. He’s warm, and with each of Hux’s gentle touches, Kylo’s cock grows harder, all that heat and pleasure puddling like honey in the bottom of Kylo’s belly. His eyes close as Hux touches him, and he breathes low and deep, measured.

It’s almost too much once Hux puts a second hand on him. His palm rests on Kylo’s kneecap, thumb drawing over the place where bone meets bone. The pads of Hux’s fingertips are so soft, almost like synthskin, not calloused and rough like Kylo’s. He wonders now and then if Hux has ever truly worked, labored, fought—used his hands for anything other than typing on a datapad, occasionally pulling the trigger of a blaster.

Hux, certainly, has done this before. It’s evident in the careless, familiar way his hand follows the groove of Kylo’s thigh, moving lightly over the fuzzy hairs that cover that untouched skin. “Fuck,” Kylo murmurs, the tightness between his legs nearly unbearable.

“You’re easily pleased,” Hux says. He’s taken hold of Kylo’s hand now, placed it at his waist, over the soft fabric of his undershirt. With his other hand, he touches the worn-smooth skin where Kylo’s leg becomes his torso, inching ever closer to Kylo’s cock. At this, Kylo bites his bottom lip hard, trying to hold back the moan that rises in his throat.

It escapes when Hux moves Kylo’s hand under his shirt, presses Kylo’s palm over Hux’s ribs, and Kylo feels Hux’s skin for the first time. Kylo wants to dig his fingers in and hold onto Hux as long as he can, maybe never let him go. He feels bone and skin and the gentle hidden curve of Hux’s stomach. Hux _wants_ this, that’s what makes this so—so much. That’s what keeps circling in Kylo’s head. Hux wants this, Hux wants _him_.

And Hux is staring at him now, his fingers still curled over the back of Kylo’s hand. Shame creeps in, digs its way into Kylo’s chest. He’s too loud, he’s too inexperienced, he’s too—

“I’m sorry,” Kylo says again. The words come too naturally to him. He lets his hand slip from beneath Hux’s shirt and pulls his palms back to his chest. Tries to curl into himself, as small as he can, not to let Hux see him. But then Hux’s hand is lifting from Kylo’s waist, and his face, Kylo’s face, is suddenly held in two cool, dry palms, and when Kylo tries to pull away, Hux only strokes his cheek more gently than he could ever possibly deserve.

“Tell me what’s the matter,” Hux says. His hands are on Kylo’s ugly face, fingertips brushing Kylo’s earlobe, and there is some semblance of genuine concern in Hux’s eyes. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

Kylo swallows. Hux’s skin against his has the same crackling feeling as a lightsaber igniting—a flare, an unbridled power only barely tamed. Kylo thinks his skin may open up and bleed and cauterize under Hux’s palms. “I do, I do—want that,” Kylo says. “I’ve just, I haven’t—”

He can’t say it. _You’re the only person with low enough standards to want me_. Hux’s fingertips nudge at the curls of Kylo’s hair, behind the too-big ears.

A moment of realization. Hux tips Kylo’s face upward just so. “Have you never done this before?”

Nausea thrumming in his throat. He spits out the offensive word, “No,” expecting Hux to break into laughter, or to slap his face, or to order him out. Kylo realizes he’s screwed his eyes shut and all he can see is black. Again, the urge to push into Hux’s mind overwhelms him. He knows what he will see, though—a multitude of insults, Hux’s disgust, his repulsion at Kylo’s face and body and existence.

Hux doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t slap him, doesn’t do anything. He keeps his hands still on Kylo’s cheeks, tilting Kylo’s face very slightly between his palms. “How?” Hux says, after some time.

Kylo’s eyes fly open. “What?”

“I don’t understand how— _you_ , of all people, are a virgin.” Hux is studying Kylo’s face, the fingers of his right hand moving over the side of Kylo’s face, pressing gently to Kylo’s temple, brushing back the fallen curls. Each touch is an exquisite torture.

“I mean,” Kylo says, “have you looked at me, or—”

“Of course I’ve looked at you, you idiot, that’s why I said I wanted this. You.” Hux draws his thumb over Kylo’s bottom lip. “Magnificent thing,” Hux says, wondrous, index finger following the slope of Kylo’s nose.

“You don’t have to pretend that I’m—that you like how I look.” The corners of Kylo’s eyes sting. “I don’t—I don’t even like how I look. So.”

And Hux finally laughs, and it hurts as much as Kylo had expected. Like a dagger, like a knife. “You’re deluded,” Hux says.

He knows this already. It had taken night after night of imagining Hux’s hands on him, stroking him off, to make him finally agree to this. He’d dirtied his sheets and let his come dry on his stomach and, once, shoved his fingers into himself, biting into the pillow when he’d come moaning, ass in the air, spilling pathetically onto the already-stained sheets, pretending it was Hux’s palm around his softening cock. And each time, afterwards, he’d feel a wash of shame drowning him as he lay in bed, empty. How pathetic, how foolish, how incredibly fucking stupid, to think Hux could actually want him.

And yet he’d come to Hux’s quarters tonight anyway. “I’m sorry,” Kylo says, choking on the words this time. His lips move against Hux’s thumb. “I know what I look like. You don’t have to pretend, you don’t have to do this.”

Hux lifting his hands away is the final blow. That’s it. He’s disgusting, he’s hideous, and Hux can’t play at wanting him anymore. He shuts his eyes again and squeezes out tears, which flow hot down his cheeks. Buries his face in his hands, folds his big body into itself. He has never been able to cry elegantly, nor is he able to stop his tears once they begin to fall. Kylo sniffs hard, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his wet hands. In a moment, Kylo’s chest is heaving with sobs, and when he tries to hold them back, he ends up choking on them, hiccupping.

“Ren,” Hux says quietly. “Kylo.”

When he was a child, Ben was prone to falling into these crying fits at any moment, when things didn’t go his way, or when he fell while playing (always with Chewie or Uncle Luke, never any of the other children), or when Han would leave without saying goodbye. It fell to his mother to calm him, with gentle hands, a kiss on the crown of his head, stroking his hair. _Ben_ , she would say, and he felt whole. In those moments, he could forget _why_ he was crying—because he was ugly, unlovable.

He feels, distantly, Hux moving, the mattress shifting under his weight. Kylo’s whole body is wracked with hiccups and sobs now, and he pulls his knees to his chest. His oversized body is taking up too much space, he needs to hide, he needs to leave. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I know you don’t actually want me, maybe you just wanted _someone_ , and I—I’m so fucking stupid.”

A flat palm against his back, smoothing circles over his spine. It’s so gentle that it hurts him. Kylo draws in a shivering breath, tries not to break under the touch. “I do want you,” Hux says. He’s behind Kylo now, still rubbing Kylo’s back, his other hand fitting against Kylo’s stomach. His fingertips pull against the dark hairs trailing up Kylo’s navel and stroke there, over lines of muscle and old scars. “I promise I do.”

Then Hux’s legs are against Kylo’s on both sides, and Kylo feels like a child again, leaned against Chewie while watching old holovids about his parents’ victories in battle. He doesn’t quite allow himself to rest against Hux’s chest, but he relaxes a little, with Hux’s hands still moving over his skin. His tears come slower now, hiccups more occasionally.

“I can’t tell if you like me touching you like this,” Hux murmurs. Kylo can feel Hux’s breath on the back of his neck, and though he should be scared, though he should believe this is a trick, it’s comforting. He nods, and Hux’s hand sweeps up from Kylo’s stomach to his chest, settles over his heart. “Is this alright?”

It is, it is, it is. Kylo nods again, makes a soft sound when Hux’s fingers drift over one of his nipples and circle there. “Do you know,” Hux starts, his face against Kylo’s hair now, nose rubbing against the back of Kylo’s head, “that day I asked you if—if you wanted to do this, after I saw you undressed, I came back here and I put all the locks on the doors, every single one, and I spent hours in this bed touching myself and imagining it was you?” Kylo gasps, imagining this, Hux’s hand slipping down Kylo’s side, over his ribs. Hux’s fingers stroke Kylo’s nipple and Kylo feels beautifully faint. Hux pulls him closer; Kylo lets him.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands—you have such large hands—and how much I wanted them on me, all over me. I kept thinking, he must be so good, that shy little boy thing of his is just an act.” Hux’s lips are against Kylo’s shoulder, fingers at his waist again. While crying, Kylo had softened, but now his cock is harder than before, fluid pearling at the tip. “Never once did it occur to me I might be your first. May I touch your cock?”

“Please,” Kylo begs, and he’s shocked by how raw, how desperate the word comes out. He needs Hux’s hands, or maybe he just needs Hux. Or maybe he just wants Hux. Hux’s fingers still play at his nipple. Kylo moans, anticipating Hux’s palm on his cock, craving it now.

When Kylo jerks himself off, his hands are fast and rough. It’s always been this way, since his first teenage self-explorations, listening for his parents outside his bedroom door and thinking distantly of a young X-Wing pilot who had been kind to him, once. Even now, older, he hasn’t been able to break the habit, to push away the fear that someone might walk in on him at any time.

Hux’s long, slow strokes are the opposite of all that. He draws fluid down Kylo’s shaft with the pad of his thumb, lightly trailing the underside of Kylo’s cock all the way down to his balls. Kylo begs himself not to move, not to cry out, not to cry at all, but Hux’s focus is singular: making Kylo feel good, and so Kylo’s back arches, and he throws his head back, leaning it against Hux’s shoulder. A brief look at Hux’s delicate fingers on Kylo’s flushed-scarlet cock makes him have to close his eyes; Kylo knows it will be too much for him if he watches himself thrust up into Hux’s fist. His shoulders strain, his upper body quivers. “Hux,” he breathes, the name becoming just an animal noise.

“There, darling, just like that,” Hux says as Kylo’s back bends. _Darling_ swirls in Kylo’s head, spiraling out like the arms of a galaxy, until it’s all Kylo can hear, even over the ever-louder sound of his own panting breath. “Terrible boy, depriving everyone of something this beautiful.” Hux quickens his strokes, tightens his grip, lifts his palm from Kylo’s chest to place it at Kylo’s forehead. With the back of his hand, he pushes Kylo’s hair out of the way, then draws soft lines through the sweat on Kylo’s brow. Kylo bites his bottom lip hard, hard, trying to hold back the howl rising from his chest.

The orgasm sneaks up on him. Hux is touching his cheek, murmuring, _lovely, lovely_ , over and over into the crook of Kylo’s neck, and Kylo is thinking of Hux calling him beautiful, calling him good, when Hux starts twisting his fist around Kylo’s shaft. He’s able to get out, “Hux—I’m sorry, I’m really—” before he comes, and the words are lost in the heaving breaths that punctuate his guttural moans. Hux strokes him through it, come spilling onto Hux’s knuckles and Kylo’s stomach as Kylo slumps back against Hux.

“Deep breaths, sweet one,” Hux says. He loosens his grip, goes a little slower, smooths back Kylo’s hair when his body begins to tremble again. “I’ll stop if you need me to.”

And even though it hurts a bit, even though every part of him is suddenly tender and too-sensitive and raw, he says, “Don’t.”

He feels Hux smile against his face. “Precious,” Hux says, his smallest finger tickling lightly at Kylo’s balls. Kylo shivers, sighs, and Hux shushes him. Kylo strains to nuzzle Hux’s face with his own, settles for sort of nudging Hux’s face with his nose. Hux laughs a little, and Kylo savors the feeling of it against his face. “You smell like the Academy. Teenage boys and sweat and sex.”

“Sorry,” Kylo says, suddenly self-conscious.

“Wish you’d stop apologizing,” Hux says. Kylo allows himself a look at Hux’s hand dripping with his come, and Hux’s fingertips in his come-sticky pubic hair, and his scarlet, half-hard cock. “I like it, it’s familiar.”

“Oh,” Kylo says, “okay,” and he watches Hux thumb over the head of his cock, and feels Hux’s heartbeat against his back. “Was that where you—had your first—”

“Yes,” Hux says. “But we needn’t discuss it.”

“What was it like?” Kylo knows he sounds too eager, but he wants to know, and anyway, he’s going all sleepy and limp under Hux’s gentle hands.

Hux huffs. “It was, you know, teenaged. Not particularly memorable except for the circumstance of it being the first time.”

Kylo is still. His own teenage years were spent training in the ways of the Force. No room, no time, for that kind of outside distraction. There was Luke, and when there wasn’t Luke, there was Snoke, and all those years since then have faded into one another, a blur of meditation and sparring and work, always work.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, actually.”

“No.” A thought. “You could show me. If you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I hate having you in my head like that,” Hux says. His hands have long since stilled, and his arms are wrapped around Kylo’s stomach in a tight embrace. Kylo is so lost in the warm haze of pleasure that he hadn’t registered it at first, but now he settles into it, Hux’s arms a comfort he hadn’t known he wanted.

“I’ll be nice,” Kylo says. “It’s different when you want it.”

“Mm,” Hux says, pondering. “If I do show you—you won’t ask me any questions, and you won’t go digging for anything else, understood?”

“I said I’ll be nice.”

Hux sighs, squeezes Kylo’s stomach. “Go on, then,” Hux says, and Kylo closes his eyes, lets his whole body relax against Hux’s, and he dips into Hux’s mind.

He’s only done this a few times, and only in moments of anger, but Kylo has always been impressed with the ordered state of Hux’s mind. Normally, though, it pulses with anxiety, and hidden behind the thoughts in the forefront of his brain (the ship, the Order, basic human needs, and—once— _Ren_ echoing, over and over) there are knots of memory and nerves. But tonight, Hux’s mind is a clear, still pool, and the reflection that appears in it is distant but well-remembered, often revisited.

Hux is sixteen and there is a boy in his bed, the boy who sleeps in the bunk above him, usually. They are in a dark room that smells of mildew ( _Arkanis_ , Hux prompts, both within and without himself) and Hux’s sheets are damp with sweat. The boy is older, seventeen or eighteen, named Tobin, Hux thinks, though he’s not sure that’s his name, anymore.

In the memory there is a profound sense of yearning in Hux’s chest, so strong and deep that Kylo feels it in his own chest now, in the present, nearly twenty years later. Hux has longed for this boy for months, having sparred with him and caught sight of him in the communal showers, watched water run down his tanned shoulders. And he has wanted so badly to kiss him, even made himself believe that one night he’d climb into Tobin’s bed and initiate something, but he is young and unsure and afraid of his father.

And yet Tobin is in his bed. In the dim light, Kylo can make out the soft features of his face: thin lips, round nose, square, adolescent jaw. More elegant than Kylo ever looked at that age, certainly. More elegant than Kylo looks now. Dark hair cut in that Academy style that Hux still wears, though loose strands of hair fall across the boy’s forehead. Kylo feels Hux’s ache, his sudden anxiety, all his longing suddenly aflame inside him.

Tobin kisses him. There is a surge in Hux’s heart that Kylo knows means he has never been kissed before this. Hux is committing all of it to memory: the mint taste of Tobin’s mouth, the sound of his breathing, him pulling the sheets over them. Skin on skin, body on body—Tobin’s hands in his hair, Hux fitting his palms over Tobin’s shoulder blades. When they pull apart, Hux says, _I like you_ , and Tobin says, _obviously_ , and Hux says, _I’ve been wanting to tell you._

The rest of the memory is flashes and sensations, hands and mouths and Hux feeling full and wanted. He lets Tobin have him, and it’s all clumsy and a little scary but mostly it’s nice, sweet, and Tobin is soft and slow and kind. Hux shakes through it, his whole body quivering, but Tobin kisses him, shushes him, and when they’re done, Tobin presses flat against Hux’s back and spoons him. Hux fixates on Tobin’s hand on his stomach, his mouth against the crook of Hux’s neck. 

Before it all goes dark, Hux places a hand over Tobin’s, and Tobin’s fingers flex against Hux’s ribs, protective, possessive.

Hux’s mind goes blurry after that. He’s trying to push Kylo out, to build up his walls again. Kylo retreats, not wanting to spoil the moment. “No more,” Hux says. “Happy now?”

“I want that,” Kylo says, unable to stop himself. He’s embarrassed as soon as he’s said it, but it’s true. He wants that, wants Hux to want him that way, completely. This _I like you_ business is childish, but Kylo supposes he does like Hux, despite how they’d initially clashed.

Hux shoves him playfully. “You absolute pervert! Getting off on my memories.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—it looks nice. You felt good, you liked it. I could feel that.”

“It wasn’t actually _good_ , you know, in the grand scheme of things—”

“Hux,” Kylo says. “Please.”

And Hux sighs, but then, with a steady hand, he gently turns Kylo’s face toward him, and he kisses Kylo deeply and tenderly. It takes Kylo by surprise because he’s never had this, either, he’s never been the kind of boy who people kissed. Hux’s fingers slip into Kylo’s hair; he tilts Kylo’s head just so, sort of leads Kylo in this new dance of kissing as best he can. Kylo is certain he’s terrible at this—he’s so unsure of every movement, where his hands should go—but Hux doesn’t let up. In fact Hux manages to slide around to Kylo’s front, where he carefully positions himself on Kylo’s lap, Kylo’s cock between them.

“I’ll make it good for you, I’ll make sure,” Hux says, pulling away just enough to speak. It’s still too far for Kylo, whose lips quiver, begging for Hux’s again. Hux trails his mouth across Kylo’s jaw, just under Kylo’s ear. “Make up for lost time, you lovely untouched thing.”

Hux pushes Kylo back against the pillows, gets as close as possible. Kylo’s hands settle at Hux’s lower back, and he groans when Hux rubs against his cock, the friction of fabric against skin too much to bear. “Please,” Kylo repeats, “please, I want that.” He slips a palm under Hux’s shirt, feels Hux’s spine, his cold skin. “I want you.”

“You’re very sweet,” Hux says between kisses. His tongue tickles at Kylo’s earlobe now. Though Kylo has felt, for as long as he can remember, a terrible embarrassment at his oversized ears, they feel perfect when Hux touches them with his soft fingertips, when Hux closes his lips around an earlobe and sucks and bites and sucks again. “Take my shirt off, sweet boy.” His words are hot on Kylo’s ear.

Kylo feels drunk on this, all these kind words and touches and kisses. He pulls Hux’s shirt over his head and throws it across the room as Hux ruts against him. Even through Hux’s briefs, Kylo can tell how hard Hux is, how eager. He grinds down against Kylo and it shoots through him like lightning. “Need you to go slow,” Kylo pleads, pants. “I’ll come again.”

“That’s the goal,” Hux murmurs into Kylo’s neck. His teeth scrape against the thin skin of Kylo’s throat.

“Not yet, please,” Kylo begs, “not until you fuck me.”

“So demanding,” Hux says, lifting his head a little. Kylo hardly knows where to place his hands, what to do. He goes still, takes gulping breaths as Hux draws his thumb over Kylo’s bottom lip. “You’d look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

“Tell me how. I want to.” Kylo doesn’t know what he wants, but he wants whatever Hux wants. He slips his pinky under the waistband of Hux’s briefs. The thought of Hux calling him _lovely_ or _pretty_ or _gorgeous_ again is intoxicating. He is not supposed to want that; he is supposed to want to be _strong_ and _powerful_ and _fearsome_. But Hux’s words make him feel small in the best way, and he’ll do anything for them now.

Desire flares in Hux’s eyes. “Are you sure? You’re not obligated.”

“Please, Hux, yes.” Kylo cranes his neck to kiss Hux, but Hux doesn’t quite give it to him yet. Hux slips his thumb into Kylo’s mouth, presses it to the inside of Kylo’s cheek. Kylo’s tongue darts over the tip of Hux’s thumb, and there is hunger in the way Hux looks at him. He savors the way Hux’s breath catches, the quiver of Hux’s upper lip. Lets his own hands stray further down Hux’s back and tug at his briefs, pull them down the curve of Hux’s ass. Hux lifts up, removes his thumb from Kylo’s mouth, rolls over onto the empty side of the bed as Kylo pulls the briefs off and drops them to the floor.

For the first time, Kylo is struck by how incredibly naked Hux is, this immense privilege of seeing the whole of his body. Hux is splayed out before him, a wrist resting lightly on his forehead, and Kylo can only look for a moment and take him in. Again, Kylo is shocked at just how small Hux is. It seems as though all his bones are visible, from the ridges of his ribs to the shelf of his collarbones to the sharp angle of his elbows. But between those bones, there’s so much softness: the slight curve of his stomach, his dimpled wrists. And his cock, proud and hard, and the toasted golden color of the hairs on his torso, and the content look on his face.

“I’d like to kiss you again,” Kylo says. “If that’s okay.”

Hux laughs, reaches for him, grins. “You don’t have to ask, darling, I’m yours.”

That spirals all the way down Kylo’s spine and rattles through his bones as he kisses Hux again. Hux lets Kylo take the lead this time, and Kylo is tentative at first, pressing closed-lipped kisses at the corners of Hux’s mouth before deepening the kiss, sucking on Hux’s bottom lip. Hux traces over Kylo’s shoulder blades and Kylo feels him smiling into the kiss.

“Going to put your hand on me,” Hux says, muffling the words against Kylo’s face. Kylo nods, feels Hux’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. For a man capable of such cruelty (he has often talked of the boys he killed at the Academy, of stormtroopers personally executed for suspected treason) he is so kind, so warm, and when he guides Kylo’s hand to his cock, he does it without condescension or mockery. “There,” he says as he wraps Kylo’s fingers around him. “Touch.”

Kylo moves his palm slowly, learning every inch of Hux’s cock with his skin. It’s different from touching himself, which has grown so mechanical that it’s hardly pleasurable anymore. With Hux, Kylo touches carefully, watching Hux’s reaction to fingertips brushing the sensitive underside of him, Kylo’s thumb curving over his head. “How’s that?” Kylo asks, working with his whole fist now, stroking from root to tip. The soft, bitten-back noise Hux makes is enough answer for Kylo.

“That’s good, fuck, your hands are so wonderful,” Hux says. His eyes are closed now, his wrists resting on his forehead again. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? It’s been— _fuck_ —my whole life has been waiting for your gorgeous hands on my cock. Faster.”

Kylo complies. Hux’s cock is velvet under Kylo’s palm, and he hears himself gasp when Hux raises his hips and thrusts up into Kylo’s fist. Kylo has done this to himself a hundred times, imagining Hux’s hands on him, so to be on the other side of it is overwhelming.

“Can’t believe you’ve never—done this before. What a waste, but, _shit, Kylo_ , you’re so good. Want to fuck your perfect mouth and your perfect arse, make you come all over yourself again. Touch my—” Kylo’s fingers dip against the tender of Hux’s balls, and Hux’s words garble with a moan. “Your whole hand,” he demands, and Kylo cups Hux’s balls in his palm, careful. Hux’s stomach rises and falls with his shallow breaths.

“Hux,” Kylo says, very quietly, afraid to break whatever spell has allowed all this to happen. “Do you want me to use my mouth?”

Hux’s eyes flutter open. He’s still gasping for breath, and he looks wild with arousal. “Use whatever you want—yes, your mouth, kitten, your gorgeous little mouth.”

“Tell me how. So I can be sure you like it.” There’s so much he doesn’t know. Just having Hux here like this is so much, and now he lets his hand travel from Hux’s balls to his inner thigh (the softest thing Kylo has ever touched, so special) to his side to his nipple, where he lets his thumb circle while he speaks. “You can teach me everything. I want to do everything for you.”

And Hux’s bony hand is on Kylo’s cheek, and Hux is looking up at Kylo with a fondness he doesn’t recognize, and something like affection begins to fill Kylo. “Beautiful boy,” Hux says. “Kiss me again. Kiss all the way down to my cock.”

Kylo steadies himself over Hux’s body, his own cock brushing lightly against Hux’s for a moment. They moan into one another’s mouths, and then Hux is kissing Kylo, tongue plunging deep into Kylo’s mouth. Kylo would be satisfied with this, the novelty of kissing and being kissed by Hux, but he wants to give Hux his mouth, since Hux is giving him so much. He pulls away and presses kisses to Hux’s chin and throat and sternum, pausing in the center of Hux’s chest to taste his heartbeat.

So strong. So steady. Not like Kylo’s own heart, which is pounding in his chest with an animal strength. In truth, Kylo realizes now, he is a bit anxious about taking Hux into his mouth. He was able to fake his way through using his hands, but this, he can mess up, and Hux will regret having ever consented to this, having ever let a virgin into his bed.

But then Hux’s fingers are in Kylo’s hair and Kylo’s fear begins to vanish. “So soft,” Hux murmurs. “Everything about you is so—I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Hux has a certain sharp, clean taste that feels good in Kylo’s mouth, and as he draws his tongue down Hux’s torso, he commits this taste to memory, along with the feeling of Hux stroking the hair over Kylo’s ear and the sound of him saying, “Wonderful, kitten, that’s lovely.” He rubs his face against Hux’s ribcage, touches Hux’s cock with his fingertips again.

Then he is presented with the reality of Hux’s cock so close to his face, and anxiety strikes through Kylo. He parts his lips, looks up at Hux. “Do I—”

“Lips and tongue, no teeth,” Hux says. “Go slow, slow as you’d like. Don’t be afraid, my sweet, it’s just a cock.” Kylo laughs a bit, grips the base of Hux’s cock and holds him steady. “Even your laugh is precious. Look at me when you put it in your mouth, darling.”

He takes a deep breath, looks up at Hux through the fallen strands of his hair, and opens his mouth wide for Hux. Licks his lips one last time.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Kylo—baby, just like that. Just like that. Fucking—take all of my cock, want you to gag on me, beautiful. Don’t stop looking at me. Such lovely eyes, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this. You’re perfect. You were—you were born to suck my cock. I’m going to fuck that gorgeous mouth, lovely, would you like that?”

Kylo is certain he’s doing everything wrong, despite Hux’s encouragement. He can’t figure out what to do with his tongue, whether he’s meant to use his hands, too, or just his mouth. He licks slowly up the underside of Hux’s cock, feeling Hux quiver beneath him. Hux is stroking Kylo’s face, his hair, every time Kylo looks up unsteadily. “Gorgeous,” Hux keeps saying, “you’re fucking gorgeous.”

And maybe that should make Kylo feel belittled, because he so obviously is not gorgeous, but hearing Hux’s tongue form those words, feeling Hux’s deep breaths and soft fingers, that makes him feel good and wanted and useful. He flicks his tongue over the head of Hux’s cock and Hux flinches sharply. “Sorry,” Kylo says, lifting his head away for a moment. “Was that bad?”

Hux grasps at Kylo’s hair, needy. “No, fuck, you’re doing wonderfully,” Hux breathes, slurring a little. He touches Kylo’s ears so lightly and lovingly that it makes Kylo want to die. “Let me fuck your mouth, kitten. Please.”

“I want you to,” Kylo says. “I want everything, Hux, you can do anything.”

“Such a good boy,” Hux says. He scratches beneath Kylo’s chin as if he were a pet, something familiar and well-loved. “All in time. Put my cock in your mouth again, baby, that’s it, like that. Going to push your head down, darling, going to fuck those gorgeous lips until they turn red.”

Kylo lets himself be moved. He closes his eyes as Hux gently brings his head down onto his cock, and Hux rolls his hips against Kylo’s mouth. Just when Kylo feels that he might choke, Hux lifts his head up again and Kylo drags his tongue over Hux’s cock. Whatever Hux is saying is unintelligible, because it’s swallowed up with breath and moans and the sound of the mattress creaking. Then he’s being pushed down and Kylo is moaning now, too, at Hux’s fingers twisting in his hair and the feeling of his own cock rubbing against the mattress when he thrusts at the same time as Hux, unable to stop himself.

It occurs to him, distantly, that Hux is probably just desperate to get laid. Kylo has a fuckable mouth and is eager to please, which of course makes him the simplest possible solution. Even so, though, if this is all an act, Hux’s words have made him feel better than anything Snoke has ever said to him, better than all those years with his mother and father and uncle. He’s only ever been an object; why should this be any different? At least in this he’s appreciated, not taken for granted.

He sucks hard on Hux’s cock as he falls into Hux’s rhythm—thinks he remembers seeing that on some illicit holo, or overhearing a stormtrooper regaling the others with his past conquests. Hux seems to like it, since he leans up, groans, “Oh, _fuck_ , Kylo, baby,” and pushes Kylo’s head down even harder.

“Look at me,” Hux suddenly demands, and Kylo does. Hux’s face is bright red, sweat beading at his forehead. “Fuck, Kylo, you were made for this—perfectly designed to— _fucking_ —perfectly designed for me to fuck, just for me. No one’s ever had you but me because you’re mine, isn’t that right? All mine, every bit of you is just for me, just for me and my cock and—fuck, fuck, slow down or I’ll come in your mouth, precious, I’m not ready yet.”

Hux’s fingertips are under Kylo’s chin again, lifting his head up slowly. Kylo tongues at the head of Hux’s cock as Hux watches him, a pleased, overwhelmed look spreading across Hux’s face. “Is this good? Am I—doing okay?” Kylo asks before licking away the fluid leaking from Hux’s cock.

“You’re perfect,” Hux says, “absolutely perfect.”

Kylo tickles a finger down the ridge of Hux’s cock, wet with his own spit. “Will you fuck me? Please? I want you to.”

Hux looks as though Kylo has promised him the galaxy. “Lie down, my sweet, spread your legs wide for me,” he says. He reaches across the bed to the table at the side, digs through the drawer for something. Kylo reclines back on the pillows, which they’ve mostly flattened. As Hux searches in the drawer, Kylo tries to fluff the pillows behind him to give him some support.

The gravity of this is occurring to him now. He’s going to let Hux fuck him— _Hux_ , who he used to hate. Who used to hate him. But who now wants him, apparently, in this bizarre turn of events that has lead to them in bed together. He’s more than a little scared. Hux has given him so much already, taken pity on him by calling him such nice things, and Kylo can’t help but think the glass will shatter soon and the joke will be revealed. Maybe Hux will grimace when Kylo touches him, or he’ll say _turn away, I can’t look at you_. It seems inevitable. He’s 29 and a virgin for a reason. Hux will realize that soon enough.

The sound of Hux shoving the drawer shut. He’s got a bottle clutched in his hand, knuckles white. “You’ve such a lovely cock, you know,” he says. “The rest of you, too, but your cock especially.”

“I, um, wouldn’t know,” Kylo says. Hux squeezes gel from the bottle into his palm with a squelching noise, then sets the bottle back on the side table. “What should I do?”

“Relax, lovely.” Hux works the gel between his fingers, coats his hands. “Precious thing, don’t be worried, I just don’t want it to hurt when I put it in.”

“Not worried,” Kylo says. “Did—Tobin do this to you? Back then?”

“Oh, don’t kill the mood, Ren, I was just getting excited about fingering you.” Hux huffs. He pats one of Kylo’s thighs. “Spread wider; I’ve got to be able to fit between your legs.”

“I like it when you call me Kylo,” he says, trying to arrange himself for Hux. He wonders what will be most attractive to Hux, if he should bend his knee or flex the muscles of his stomach or brush his hair back. “No one else calls me that.”

Hux positions himself between Kylo’s legs, his small body all folded into himself. It’s a kind of déjà vu from earlier, when Kylo had panicked. He promises himself now that he won’t do it again. This is meant to happen, so he’ll let it happen. He’ll let Hux have him.

“What else do you like me to call you?” Hux says. With one slick hand, he’s lifting each of Kylo’s legs and resting them on his thighs, raising Kylo’s ass just a bit.

“Everything,” Kylo says. “I like all of them.” Hux is grinning; Kylo is breathing deeply, heavily, still afraid.

“Which do you like best, darling? I want to know.” Hux touches the soft spot behind Kylo’s balls, and Kylo shudders.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. Hux strokes that spot again, that tender untouched skin. Kylo gasps, “Shit, Hux, I don’t know.”

“Is it _darling_?” A stroke. “ _Precious_?” Another. “ _Kitten_? _Lovely_?” He punctuates each name with a brush of his fingertip. Heat coils in Kylo’s stomach; he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. “ _Sweet_? _Beautiful_?”

_Oh_ —Kylo moans and nods and bites his fist at hearing Hux say that word. “Beautiful,” Hux repeats, and Kylo’s bottom lip trembles. “Beautiful boy, Kylo, that’s what you are, you’re my beautiful boy.” And then Hux’s finger is inside him, and Kylo almost convulses, feeling Hux open him from within. “You’re not as tight as I expected, beautiful, did you do this to yourself?”

He can only nod, make a wispy sound from the back of his throat.

“I hope you thought of me while you did it,” Hux says, curling his finger. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Kylo manages this time. “Wanted you.”

“Of course you did, beautiful boy, I’ll bet you came all over yourself, didn’t you?” Hux is stroking behind Kylo’s balls with his thumb, crooking the finger inside Kylo as he does. It's like nothing Kylo has ever felt before; when he’d done this to himself, he’d been shaking too much, too ashamed to really let himself enjoy it. Focused more on the hand around his cock than the fingers in his ass. But even Hux's smallest movements are elegant and practiced and perfect, and Hux seems intent on making Kylo feel good. “Did you, beautiful?”

Kylo’s throat goes raw with a moan when Hux pushes another finger into him. His hips move of their own volition, grinding against Hux’s fingers. Kylo wants Hux deep inside him, as far as he’ll go. If he can just angle himself a bit, Hux’s fingers will hit—

“Fuck, _fuck_ , there, there, there,” Kylo groans. But Hux’s free hand lands at Kylo’s hip and pushes him back against the bed, holds him still. Even as Kylo tries to twitch, Hux’s grip tightens and keeps him held there. He’s right on the edge of coming—when he masturbates, it’s all over and done with so quickly that Kylo never has time to anticipate his orgasm. Hux has drawn this out so long it’s become like an ache, a delicious pain stabbing through every muscle in Kylo’s body.

“You’ve got to be still,” Hux says, bringing his hand now to Kylo’s face. Kylo leans into the touch, Hux’s sweat- and lube-slick palm, nuzzles against it. “Don’t want you to come until I’m inside you. I want to see your beautiful face when it happens.”

Hux inserts a third finger and Kylo is certain, then, that he’s going to come, and he will have failed Hux, and Hux will laugh at him. _Is that really all it takes?_ he’ll say, _you dreadful, ugly, unlovable thing_. He’s touching Kylo’s face, stroking his cheek and chin and nose, hushing him, whispering, “So beautiful, darling, you’re such a gift, you were saving yourself just for me. My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

“Hux, I can’t—I can’t wait, please, I want you.” He’s barely able to choke out the words between gasps for breath. Kylo places his own hand atop Hux’s, forces himself to open his eyes and look up at Hux. His big palm fully covers Hux’s, and Hux goes still for a moment. “Please, Hux, please.”

It’s embarrassing to be begging like this. He ought to be meditating, or working through all this want by sparring. But no, no, he only wants Hux, because Hux is the only person who can give him this. Who _will_ give him this. This freeing feeling of belonging to someone—contradictory, Kylo knows, but he’s always felt more comfortable in being owned. Whether it was his mother or Luke or Snoke, he’s always felt safest when someone else was in charge. This is like that, but—there’s an element of belonging he’s never felt before. The sense that he might actually be wanted for himself rather than just for what he could be. His powers or his strength or whatever.

Hux just wants him. His moles and muscles and odd jaw and boyish face. Hux has touched all of it without fear or disgust. Hux wants him.

Kylo’s whole body contracts when Hux removes his fingers. “You’re ready, sweet?” Hux says, tucking a lock of hair behind Kylo’s ear. There’s an incredible fondness in Hux’s face that Kylo has never seen before. Kylo had previously thought of Hux as a collection of hard angles, reflective of his ship’s sharp lines and cool chrome. But Kylo sees now that there’s so much softness in him: the way his eyes catch distant starlight, the red-gold hair (a shade that Kylo is sure is unique to Hux, inimitable by any means) that’s fallen onto his forehead, the thin smile that parts his lips just enough to make Kylo yearn to kiss him again.

Kylo nods, rubs his cheek against Hux’s hand. He can’t make himself say, _yes, I’m ready_ , so he hopes the way he kisses at Hux’s thumb makes it clear.

“Put your legs over my shoulders, love,” Hux says. He settles his hand beneath one of Kylo’s thighs, carefully lifting and repositioning Kylo’s leg so the crook of his knee rests on Hux’s shoulder. Kylo is a big man, too big, but under Hux’s hands, he’s so wonderfully small. To anyone else, he would be immovable. But Hux has commanded fleets of ships, countless armies, so much incredible destruction. It only makes sense that he’s able to command Kylo, too.

In all this chaos that has led to the Order, Kylo has found himself doubting, often. Doubting Snoke’s commands, doubting himself. Hux, though—Hux has always been sure of his mission, his purpose. He sets Kylo’s other leg on his shoulder now. “Pass me that bottle, darling,” Hux says. Kylo easily grabs it with the Force, hands it over to Hux. “Let me just—”

Kylo watches Hux stroke himself with the gel, how Hux bites his own lip and sighs upon taking his cock in hand. _Fuck_ , Kylo could reach down now and jerk himself off, spill on his chest while Hux watched. End this delicious, terrible suffering. If Hux touches him now, Kylo thinks it will be quite the task not to sob. If he draws this out much longer, if he begs Kylo _not yet, beautiful, just a few moments more_ —Kylo will have to obey. He’s helpless to it. But he wants so badly to come, finally. Not until Hux allows it, though, not until Hux promises him it’s best.

“You’re quite heavy,” Hux says, nudging his face against one of Kylo’s knees. Just as Kylo is preparing to apologize, try to shrink into himself, Hux says, “I like it. You’re sturdy. I don’t feel like I’m going to break you.”

“I’d break you,” Kylo says. His voice is so ragged, so hot with arousal and desire.

“Yes, Tobin thought he’d break me, too. But he didn’t, he was—gentle. And good. More than I deserved, really, I was a bit of a shit back then.” Hux cracks a smile. “Sort of like you.”

“Sorry,” Kylo says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Hush,” Hux says. “Okay, deep breath, darling, I’ve got you.”

Kylo inhales. Meets Hux’s eyes. And Hux guides himself in, and Kylo loses whatever composure he’d been holding onto. His back immediately bends, he’s gasping, reaching for Hux as Hux draws out and pushes in, excruciatingly slowly. “Oh, fuck, Hux,” Kylo is saying, “fuck, _fuck_.”

“You’re fucking beautiful like this,” Hux says. “Just gorgeous, Kylo, you were made for my cock. You’re my treasure, aren’t you, that’s right, you are. _Fuck_ , dig your heels in, I want to feel you. Like that, fuck, bite your lip for me, those gorgeous lips. Those are mine, aren’t they? That’s my mouth to fuck. Such a pretty, pretty mouth, my beautiful boy. Weren’t you made for me? Say it, darling.”

“I was—” Kylo lets out a guttural noise, the only thing that comes when Hux slams into him again, angled hipbones jutting into the muscle of Kylo’s thighs. “Fuck! I was, I was made for you, Hux. Fuck, I—want to be yours.”

“That’s right, my sweet. You _are_ mine. And no one else’s, just mine.” Kylo digs his heels into Hux’s shoulder blades; Hux leans back into them. “You feel fucking wonderful around my cock, you know, so perfect. Your perfect arse and your gorgeous face, oh, fuck, you like this, don’t you? That smile makes me want to fuck your mouth again—touch your cock, darling, I want to see it.”

Kylo takes himself in his trembling hand, gives his hard, throbbing cock a few strokes. It’s almost too much, suddenly: Hux inside him, grunting as he thrusts and thrusts, Kylo imitating how Hux’s hands had moved earlier, pleasure spreading out within him like the roots and branches of a tree. Then—a stabbing, something almost unraveling. “I’ll come,” he howls, jerking his hand away. Clenches all his muscles tight, begs himself not to tip over that edge just yet. “I’ll come, I’m sorry.”

“Want me to go slower, darling? That what you’d like?”

“Want whatever you want,” Kylo is moaning. “Just want you.”

“I know, precious, I know you do,” Hux says. He slows his pace now, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in again, each tiny movement agonizing for Kylo. “You’re doing so well, sweet one. You’re so beautiful. No one’s ever told you that before, have they? You’ve never let anyone else see. But it’s true, lovely, since that first time I saw you without that ugly thing on your head, I’ve thought it was true. Hated myself for thinking it. Used to keep myself awake after long shifts fucking my hand and imagining it was you. Never expected I’d be the only one.”

“Glad it’s you,” Kylo says. “No one else has ever—wanted me.”

“Will you let me come inside you?” Hux says. Kylo realizes now how unsteady Hux’s breathing has become, how he’s lost the earlier rhythm of his thrusts. “Please, Kylo, sweetest, I promise it’ll feel good.”

“Yes, fuck, please, please.” Kylo rolls his hips against Hux’s, moaning with Hux, his throat dry and raw. He _needs_ to come, can feel his whole body turning itself inside out with anticipation. There’s a stinging at the corners of his eyes— _not now, fuck, not now_.

“Say you’re mine again,” Hux demands. He’s speeding up again, pistoning into Kylo with a ferocity he hadn’t before. “Fucking _hells_ , Kylo, say you belong to me.”

“I do, fuck, I do, I’m yours,” Kylo says, and his cheeks are fiery with the heat that precedes tears. “I belong to you, I’m—fuck, I’m all yours, I’m no one else’s, I belong to you.”

“Yes you do— _fuck_!” Hux sucks in a breath. He’s gripping Kylo’s thighs, digging his short nails in hard now. “Oh, fuck, shit, you’re so gorgeous when I fuck you. Tell me how much you want to come.”

“Please, Hux—I want, I want—” He squeezes his eyes shut against the ache in his chest. Heaves a breath. Feels the first hot, wet tear on his cheek. “Fuck, please, please let me.”

“Good boy, precious boy—you’re all mine. Will you think of this when you touch yourself from now on? You’ll—think of me?” Hux’s palm slips down Kylo’s thigh to his cock, holds still. Kylo tries desperately to fuck into Hux’s hand, but then Hux begins to stroke him again, and all Kylo can do is let the sobs come.

“I already do, every time,” Kylo says. With each gasp, more tears fall. He’s so close, so fucking close, he just needs Hux to—

“Look at me, beautiful,” Hux says, and he twists his hand when Kylo’s eyes meet his, and Kylo is gone. He comes hard and fast onto his stomach and Hux’s knuckles, Hux still thrusting into him, still jerking him through the orgasm. Once, his father had flown the Falcon upside down, made a sharp, steep drop into a canyon, and this feels like that—the inability to determine whether he’s falling or flying, whether he’s about to die, or if he’s burning beautifully, brilliantly alive.

And then Hux comes, only moments later, reaching for Kylo’s face, gasping, and Kylo knows—he’s alive, there’s no going back from this. And he doesn’t want to. No. He just wants this: Hux, sweat, a cramp forming in the muscles of his thighs, clarity.

Hux slumps on top of him, Kylo’s legs flopping to the bed unceremoniously. He’s still catching his breath, tears still rolling down his cheeks. He feels Hux’s breath against his shoulder, allows himself to trace the long line of Hux’s back.

So fragile. All these little bones. Hux sighs so softly Kylo thinks he’s imagined it. All of this feels like Kylo’s imagined it—he never expected this to happen to him, that Hux could want him.

“Hux,” Kylo whispers. His lips move against Hux’s ear. “Was that real?”

Hux’s response, muffled in Kylo’s skin: “Don’t be stupid, Kylo, I’m literally still inside you.”

Kylo sniffs. He hasn’t been able to stop his tears. “I mean—did you actually. Um. Want me.”

Hux lifts his head slightly. Kylo turns his face away, knows he’s gone red again, that he’ll begin to cry even more if he lets Hux see him like this.

“Of course, beautiful, of course I do,” Hux says, and he wipes away Kylo’s tears.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://huxcrying.tumblr.com)!


End file.
